


Sick and Alone

by hawkywithshawzy



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Sick Character, scute, snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-08 23:53:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6880609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkywithshawzy/pseuds/hawkywithshawzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Sick and alone and the last person I thought would show up to take care of me is you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick and Alone

Pat hated nights alone, and he hated them even more when he was sick. He couldn’t smell for shit, and his head was throbbing, like someone was hitting a sledgehammer against it over and over. Nothing was working, either: the pain meds, the heating pad, the stillness of the bedroom. He lost his appetite hours ago, and he’s yaked about 4 times since noon. Needless to say, things weren’t going so well.

Shawzy texted him just then, three dings going off in a row from his phone across the room.

Bro, u coming to the bar tonite?

Oh shit. He forgot he was supposed to meet Shawzy, Saader and Toews at the bar tonight for some “guy time”, or whatever that meant.

I can pick u up if u need a ride, or we could call an Uber?

Let me know what u want 2 do.

There was no way he was going to the bar tonight; he was in no mood for booze or girls climbing all over him. He sent a reply back, saying:

Sorry Shawzy, got sick after morning skate today and don’t feel very well. Have fun tho, take good care of the guys for me.

Not a second later, a reply came from Shawzy.

Ok bro, feel better, we’ll have a few beers for ya.

He tossed his phone back onto the couch, following behind it and slumping into the cushions. The TV was playing reruns of Cupcake Wars, and with the volume low, Pat was starting to doze off. His head felt stuffy and heavy, and all the noise from the city was blurred out. He almost didn’t hear the banging on his door almost an hour later, the sound of keys jangling on the other side of the door. Pat hadn’t even lifted his body off the couch before Jonny was in the door, arms full with brown paper bags, filled with something that smelled delicious. Pat couldn’t help but take in Jonny just standing there, fiddling with the keys, trying to pull them out of the lock. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt and a pair of light blue shorts, a new pair of flip flops to top it off. It was casual, and nothing special at all, but it made Pat all warm nonetheless.

“What are you doing up? Get back on the couch, you look awful,” Jonny said, his demanding and protective attitude coming out. “Let’s go, come on, back on the couch. Now.”

That was enough to make Pat spin on his heels and make a beeline back for the couch. He usually would try and mess with Jonny, see how far he could push him before he got really annoyed with him, but right now the world was spinning and Pat couldn’t tell left from right, so he wasn’t really in the mood to bicker. Jonny came out from the kitchen, a glass of water is one hand and a bowl of chicken noodle soup in the other.

“Okay, how did you even know I was sick? I wasn’t gonna say anything, I’m fine-”

“Shawzy told me you bailed on the bar night tonight. He said you weren’t feeling well, so I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Jonny said, cutting Pat off, his shoulder shrugging ever so slightly. He looked up at Pat, his eyes soft and concerned. Jonny wasn’t big into drawing much attention to himself, and Pat knows this, so he just took the soup with a smile.

“Thanks, man. Sick and alone and the last person I thought would show up to take care of me is you,” Pat said, letting the warmth of the soup take him over, snuggling deeper into the Hawks blanket Jonny has draped over him.

“Drink your water, please. You need to stay hydrated okay?” Jonny said, pushing the glass closer to where he was sitting on the couch. He was such a fucking dad. But Pat did as he was told, his eyelids becoming heavier and heavier after each sip he took.

“Do you want to sleep? I can help you upstairs if you want?” Jonny said, gesturing to the staircase next to him. Pat didn’t think he could move, not for the next few hours at least, the pain killer Jonny gave him starting to work it’s way through his bloodstream. All he could manage was a soft, “c’mere,” mumbled through his pink lips, raw from the cold Chicago air.

Jonny fit himself on the couch next to Pat, grabbing the corner of the blanket and pulling it over himself. Pat scooted over to Jonny's side, letting his head find it’s way to his shoulder, drawing his knees up to his chest, moving in closer. Jonny’s arm snaked it’s way around Pat’s back, letting his hands draw lazy circles on his spine.

“This is good,” Pat managed to mumble before totally falling asleep. Jonny kissed his blonde curls, letting their breaths fall into a rhythm. “Yeah, this is good,” he said to a softly snoring Pat, who was clutching Jonny’s shirt and he let himself go, knowing that this was exactly where he wanted to be.


End file.
